


Childcare Theory and Practical Application 101

by provocation



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provocation/pseuds/provocation
Summary: or,Troy and Abed have a baaaaby!
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Childcare Theory and Practical Application 101

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in the fanzine (BOY)FRIENDS WEEKLY, alongside many, MANY other works of art and stories that blew me away. Everyone did such an amazing job capturing the characters and I felt really lucky to be a part of it; Community has been one of my favourite sitcoms for years, and Troy and Abed's friendship (romance... let's be real) is one of its greatest aspects in my opinion. Even though my characterization might be a little rusty, I'm so glad I got to bring one of my old ideas to fruition for the zine. Here's a link to the official [tweet](https://twitter.com/trobedzine/status/1317982993139535876?s=20)/tumblr [post](https://trobedzine.tumblr.com/post/632360224769114112/boyfriends-weekly-a-trobed-fanzine-has-been) if you want to check out the other works!
> 
> Also this is set after November 2011 so around Season 3, but it's technically an alternate universe/canon divergence! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Troy has only been out of the house for four hours, but he already misses Abed. Having to go into Greendale on a Saturday is an abrupt departure from their usual weekend routine of adhering to a strict schedule of relaxation only. But Annie needed help with her homework, and for some reason Troy had been her victim of choice. 

He isn’t bothered by the change of routine; at least, he tells himself he isn’t, and that he’s only worried for Abed’s benefit. When he finally makes it back to the apartment, bag of greasy takeout and drink tray in hand, he sees a note taped to the outside of their door and thinks that he might have been right to worry. 

DON’T KNOCK is written in blue ballpoint pen; Troy’s no expert, but it looks like Abed’s handwriting. He frowns, and he doesn’t knock. But the second he starts trying to let himself in, the knob twists independently. Abed surprises Troy by opening the door, and then surprises him again by stepping into the hallway and shutting both of them out. “Uh, hi,” is all Troy has the chance to greet his roommate with.

“Don’t be mad,” Abed begs, more frantic than normal. His hair is a mess— he’s still handsome as ever, just frazzled. He grabs Troy by the shoulders which is also unusual, and repeats, “Don’t be mad. Before I tell you what I did, you have to promise me you won’t be mad.”

Has that phrase ever preceded anything good? Troy grimaces. “I promise I won’t be mad. But if the Dreamatorium got out into the whole apartment and taped up our shower and clogged the toilet again, I’m not gonna be happy.”

Any reminder of their past adventures usually at least elicits a knowing look from the guy, but right now Abed is too distracted to even do a flashback. Concerning. “It’s not that. Okay.” He breathes— exhales, then inhales slowly— and finally releases Troy’s shoulders. “I got a dog.”

“Oh my god, Abed! Why would I be mad?” Troy beams. “That’s the best news  _ ever!” _

Abed’s eyes search his. “So you’re not mad?”

“No! I love dogs!”

This doesn’t seem to relax his friend. “A dog is a lot of work though. And even though I’m the one who adopted the dog, you’re probably going to have to deal with some poop and stuff.”

Troy makes a point of keeping direct eye contact as he promises, “I don’t care about poop and stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Abed nods. “Yeah. Okay. Come say hi.”

He turns to open the door to their place again, and they walk in. Troy’s so excited to see their new dog that for a very long moment the lack of a dog confuses him, and he ends up standing in the doorway, staring at where their Raiders of the Lost Ark table had once sat. The space is now occupied by a stroller, holding a baby swaddled in blankets. A  _ human  _ baby.

“Abed.” Troy finally blinks. “This is not a dog.”

“I thought that you might be angrier if I surprised you with a baby,” Abed explains, pacing over to the stroller.

“That makes sense,” Troy admits begrudgingly. He stares at the pink, fat, tiny human with thick dark hair and fingers too small to be real. He thinks he might be dreaming. “I— is— is that— is that real? Is that a real baby?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Abed tells him seriously. Troy thinks he might faint for the first time in his whole adult life. He squeezes past the stroller to go put down their takeout in the kitchen so that if he does faint, at least he doesn’t waste their food. Damn it, he should have gotten milk. 

But then his thoughts are interrupted by the sight of their bunkbed, which has moved to the living room somehow. Did Abed do that on his own? He isn’t the handy type… Troy’s gaze falls to their bedroom, and to the crib which has somehow spawned inside it. For the baby.

Troy thinks he’s gonna faint. Or move out, maybe. “Where did you get a baby?”

Abed, still standing by the stroller, twists uncomfortably at this. Troy understands now why he had to promise not to be mad. “It’s not mine.”

Here’s how things went down.

This morning, Alex Osbourne had received a note and a gift from an ex-paramour. The note had explained that the gift was his, and that there was nothing he could do to decline the gift or return it to its sender, and that the gift hadn’t been named yet but that she was sure he could figure out something appropriate. He had, of course, started panicking; Alex’s first son was a disappointing weirdo, and he had been raised during Alex’s  _ good _ years.

After trying out some stellar baby names (stellar as in related to stars. They all sucked) Alex had started to panic, and dialed the first name in his phone contacts— luckily for Miss Edison, Abed came before Annie. Abed answered the call, and then came over to help and ended up agreeing to take the baby. Then Troy came home, saw the baby, had a pretty fair reaction, and called the study group for an emergency Saturday night meeting.

“And that’s why you’re all here now,” Abed concludes. Everyone sits in silence for about three seconds before bursting into noise and overlapping conversation.

“Sorry,  _ who _ is Alex?”

“Star-Burns is Alex.”

“So that baby— that’s Star-Burns’ baby?”

“We were confused too. We think the sideburns will grow in as the baby gets older.”

“We’re excited to see what shape they grow in!”

“As the baby gets— are you  _ keeping it?! _ ”

“Why would you agree to keep a baby, Abed?”

“Wait, Star-Burns has my phone number? Eww!”

“It’s fine,” Abed replies to Britta, and Jeff. To Annie, he cringes. “Well, it’s not fine that Star-Burns has your number. That is a little weird. But you do put it on a lot of the posters for clubs and things that you’re involved in.”

“Aww,” Annie somehow interprets this as a compliment. “That’s true, I guess!”

“Do not change the subject,” Jeff says. “Abed. Why are you even entertaining the idea of keeping Star-Burns’ baby? Do you even want kids?”

“It’s not something I’d really considered,” Abed hums thoughtfully. “I guess I never saw myself as the type to raise a family, especially not so young… but there is precedent for it! Like Superman.”

“And Kung Fu Panda 2,” Troy replies.

“And Ice Age.”

“And Tarzan!”

“And Harry Potter.” Abed frowns. “Except, not like Harry Potter. But like Tarzan for sure.” He smiles down at the baby, whose attention is currently focused on wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around Abed’s hand. “I mean, think about it. This baby could be Clark Kent.”

“Isn’t this all happening a little fast, though? Adoption takes a really long time, Abed,” Annie points out, sympathetic but soft like she’s worried about hurting his feelings. “You don’t even know its name yet. Or if it’s a boy or a girl…?”

Before Abed can answer, Britta interrupts, already on the defensive. “Why does it matter if it’s a boy or a girl? I mean, come on! All children should be raised the same way! I’m proud of Abed because I think it’s important to support single…  _ mothers _ .”

Abed shakes his head. “Nope. But almost.” Britta pouts but doesn’t press that last point. “I’m waiting to decide on a name until I know their personality better. We need to figure out if they’re more of a Blorgon person or a Tribble person.”

“Good priorities,” Jeff snorts.

In the same nervous tone as Annie, Shirley asks, “Do you even know how old it is? When was the baby born?”

“No, Star-Burns hasn’t figured that out yet,” Troy answers. “But we’re hoping they were born on November 11th, because then their birthday would be 11/11/11, and that’d be kinda cool.”

Jeff sits up a little straighter at this. “Hang on. So. Troy. You’re on board with all this? You’re gonna raise a baby with Abed?”

“Do you know how much work that’s going to take?” asks Annie.

Jeff nods. “And  _ money _ ?”

“I told Star-Burns that if he wanted me to raise his kid, he had to pay me child support.” Abed says this with deserved pride.

Jeff just stares, and then slumps back into his seat. “There’s… there’s no way you told him to give you enough. Listen, I’ll… be your legal representation on this, free of charge. We’ll draw up some sort of temporary adoption contract, and if he doesn’t pay you enough fry cook/drug money to pay for that kid properly, then he’ll have to take it back and create another disappointing weirdo by himself.”

“Not temporary,” Abed says. “… But okay.”

When he turns to look at Troy, his friend and roommate is already looking at him, with soft, affectionate eyes. Abed smiles, and Troy smiles back. Unspoken, they do their handshake.

“I’ll have to look through my baby clothes and see what I can give you,” Shirley mutters, already making notes in her phone.

Annie gasps. “We need a  _ binder!” _

“We need a name,” Jeff says. “That’s your homework for the week, Abed. We’ll handle Biology, you just… keep that baby alive, somehow, and pick out a name.”

Abed nods, even though he has no intention of picking out a name for the infant before he knows what fits. “Wanna hold it?”

Everyone jumps out of their seats, and Abed smiles and lifts the baby into his arms.

It turns out fine because they took care of a rat. Well, not really because of that, but that’s what Abed tells his family on the phone.

It turns out fine because Abed knows how to deliver a baby. And sure, that skill might not be directly applicable to their strange situation, but it reassures both of them greatly to think about how theirs isn’t the only child in the universe. There’s very little about childcare that can’t be found on Google, or discovered through trial and error. Troy envies how calm Abed is when things go wrong with the baby (still nameless); sometimes he feels like the panic might overwhelm him but even while panicked, Abed always has a plan they can fall back on.

It turns out fine because Abed is careful. Troy is careful too, of course, but Abed tackles the challenge with the same single-minded determination that he attacks most things with. He thinks of everything; Troy comes home one day to find Abed recording a video for the baby ‘just in case we ever lose our memories, like that awful Adam Sandler movie’. When he checks the slate, he sees that Abed’s on take seventeen.

But, really, it turns out fine because they have the most amazing friends. Annie brings over a ton of lifestyle books and manuals and individualized binders to answer all their queries, from the inane to the truly insane— to the mundane, like itineraries to help them figure out how to keep up with school. She loves the baby (as does everyone, of course, because they have the cutest baby ever) but her focus is on her friends. She spends most afternoons at their apartment, happy to help in any way she can.

Jeff shows up the first week with his arms full of grocery bags, fingers red and white from the plastic handles. He brings over formula and food the next week too, and after that he starts spending some nights at their apartment so that they can take a break. He loves the baby almost more than Annie, constantly doting over the thing. 

Troy and Abed start staying in Jeff’s apartment a couple nights a week, using all his Netflix and hot water and falling asleep on his king bed. (It’s fine, it’s more than big enough for the pair of them to sprawl out without really touching.) When they go back home Jeff is usually napping on the floor beside the crib, curled up on the rug with his phone beside his head. Half the time they don’t bother disturbing him until the baby wakes up, and then he stays to make them dinner, always rambling about how he won’t have any and then caving and making himself a plate.

“Abed,” Troy decides abruptly during one of these dinners, setting down his fork, “I think we should name the baby after Jeff.”

Both Abed and Jeff blurt, “No!” and then Abed hurries to add, “No offence, Jeff.”

Jeff shakes his head violently. “None taken. Do  _ not _ name your baby after me.”

For all Jeff’s talk of handling the legal stuff, Britta ends up being the one who intimidates Star-Burns into paying child support. There’s a misunderstanding where he signs the temporary adoption contract (not legally binding) with Star-Burns instead of Alex, but in the end, Britta manages to work everything out. She purposefully leaves no option to write down the baby’s gender, proclaiming that they can figure it out along the way. Abed thanks Britta sincerely as he signs his part of the contract, and they all pretend Troy isn’t crying as he leaves his signature.

Two days after the contract has been finalized, Shirley shows up at the apartment with a very nice man who asks a lot of specific questions about their bathtub. Troy realizes first that they’re trying to christen the baby, and they kick Shirley out of the apartment as fast as they can. 

(Abed takes punitive measures and tells Shirley she isn’t allowed to see the baby for a week. This ends up being the most effective punishment of all time when the baby starts recognizing Jeff and smiling when he arrives, and within the week Shirley offers a full apology.)

Greendale becomes the baby’s second home and the student body quickly learns to quiet down as they pass Group Study Room F, lest they accidentally ruin naptime and face the wrath of Shirley and Annie combined. In fact, Greendale is where Troy and Abed have their first fight about the baby; even though they spend all their time together, and even though according to Annie’s binders ‘tensions are high’, things have been nice and easy. Really nice, and really easy, actually.

“I think they’re ready,” Troy says as they enter the study room, setting the stroller seat down on their corner of the table. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Abed cringes. “Don’t say that,” he points a finger. “Never say that, come on!  _ Fantastic Four _ .”

“I just meant that we’ll be in there with them,” sighs Troy. “If anything goes wrong, we can evacuate. I think it’d be really fun!”

Shirley cuts in, “What would be really fun?”

Finally acknowledging the rest of the group, Abed hums, “Fine, we can open it up to the table. Troy wants to take the baby into the Dreamatorium for advanced dramatic play, but I think we should stick to simple scenarios with them like playing house, playing doctor… Weekend at Bernie’s, maybe. I mean, they’ll be confined to the stroller.”

“Umm,” Annie frowns, slightly concerned. “Are you sure… Are you guys sure the baby’s ready for the Dreamatorium?”

“Yes,” Troy beams as Abed says curtly, “No.”

“I mean, they’re still a newborn,” Annie’s tone veers even further into sing-song gentle-nervous. Abed’s least favourite. “If you tried to play with them in there, they wouldn’t even be able to leave their chair, right?”

“Ah, Weekend at Bernie’s,” Jeff snaps his fingers. “I got it now.”

“They could lie on the floor,” says Troy. “We could do… um… Die Hard! Like, the vents.”

This does not help alleviate Annie’s obvious anxiety. Abed sighs. “Don’t worry. We’re sticking to a strict parental guidance level, no matter what we do. So no Kickpuncher.” Not until they can speak and  _ ask _ to do Kickpuncher, anyway. “Even though they like kicking.”

Jeff is staring again. “Abed, you realize you just called yourselves the parents of this baby.”

Abed blinks, nonplussed. “Well, yeah.”

Then Troy takes a heavy breath in, and when Abed turns to watch him inhale, he sees his friend grimacing with wide, panicked eyes. Confusion sets in. More confusing (and upsetting) is that Troy has pulled his hand out of the baby’s grip. 

Troy looks like he’s going to start rambling but he keeps his panic to himself, jumping up out of his chair and shoving away from the table in one awkward motion. Abed watches him leave the room without saying another word, and he blinks several times in rapid succession as he tries to parse what the hell just happened.

“Um,” Abed shakes himself. “Um. Okay, Shirley, can you watch—” He slides the car seat across the table to her, following Troy’s lead and climbing to his feet. “Just, w-watch them please. And Annie, watch Shirley so that she doesn’t baptize the baby.”

And with that, he runs out of the room.

Troy doesn’t get far before Abed catches up. He’s standing in the school’s courtyard next to an empty table, wringing his hands together. Before Abed can get a word out he turns around, as if he’d telepathically sensed that Abed would follow him. Or maybe he just heard the footfalls of a six foot tall Polish Muslim man sprinting after him.

The look on his face stops Abed short, and he skids to a stop before he can enter Troy’s space. Troy looks nervous like Abed has rarely seen before, and he drops his hands to his sides. When he speaks, he sounds like he’s despairing. “Abed, how are we supposed to do this?”

“Easy,” Abed answers without hesitation. “Star-Burns is going to pay us every month, and Jeff can come over a couple nights a week to give us some relief, and Britta’s already looking into progressive daycares that won’t—”

“No,” Troy stops him. “I mean, how are you and I supposed to raise a child?”

Abed freezes on the spot. Now he’s the one feeling and looking nervous, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Well… we… we already are. I mean, we’re the ones taking care of it, I… if you’re worried about it being weird, it’s. It’s not. Co-parenting doesn’t have to necessarily be romantic.”

He’d thought that was good, but the look on Troy’s face makes it evident that he said something wrong. It’s freezing outside and Troy’s hair is already dusted in a thin layer of snowflakes. One lands on Abed’s nose, and he sees Troy flinch. “Yeah, man. Of course not.”

For all his brains, it takes Abed another three days to realize how he messed up.

He would let it slide, but he can’t banish the image of Troy in the courtyard from his mind. His best friend looked broken-hearted; Abed has only seen that face on him a few times, and it’s hard to guess what it might mean for him. For them.

He puts it together on a Friday, replaying their conversation as he boils water to make hot chocolate. Really, the whole fight had been stupid; they’d only gotten into a fight because Jeff made that weird comment about calling the baby theirs, and referring to themselves as parents. That’s not something Abed has ever had a mental block around, because even though he didn’t expect to be having kids this young, the assumption that Troy would stick around and raise the baby with him had been… well, assumed.

“Oh,” says Abed, blinking. He takes the kettle off of the stove, turning the heat off. Hot chocolate can wait.

Troy’s been doing storytime for at least twenty minutes now, rereading the same books. They could stand to get a couple more picture books— Abed makes a mental note to go to the library later. He stops in the doorway to the nursery, fidgeting as he watches Troy gently tell the story of a lost dog trying to find his way home. Abed thinks about Fievel and he knows his mind is made up. His mind has been made up since the second Star-Burns called.

“I want to raise the baby together,” he announces. Troy glances up, startled; Abed realizes after the declaration that there was probably a better way to do this. But it’s too late now to walk it back even if he wanted to.

After a moment of surprise, Troy folds the book. “Yeah, I know that.”

“No,” Abed insists, “I want to raise them together with you. I wouldn’t want to raise them with anyone in the world except you. And I know that you’ll be a great dad, because you’re the most thoughtful and caring and loving person I’ve ever met.”

Troy drops the book, staring at Abed. He climbs to his feet, and Abed can already see the oncoming waterworks; after years of being Troy’s best friend and weeks of being a parent to a newborn, he’s kind of developing a superpower for these things. He doesn’t give Troy the chance to burst into happy tears, crossing the room to hug him nervously.

Considering how close they are, the two of them aren’t literally close that often. Abed isn’t usually one for physical contact and Troy is a hugger but he respects boundaries, so he just takes what he can get when Abed’s feeling a little more affectionate. So this should feel awkward, but like everything with Troy, it feels perfect. Abed sighs and rests his chin on his best friend’s shoulder.

Abed wants to press him for a response, but before he can say anything Troy blurts out, “I used to dream about it.” Pulling back to get a better look at him, Abed can see vulnerability in the nervous twist of his mouth and how he keeps fidgeting like he wants to look away. He doesn’t look away, returning Abed’s gaze. “About… being a dad. I wanted to start my own family, I just… I didn’t think it would happen while I was still in college.”

Before Abed can look too disappointed, Troy adds to his confession, “But I— I don’t think I’d wanna raise a baby with anyone but you either.”

Abed’s heartbeat stutters, and he doesn’t bother hiding his obvious excitement. “Okay. … So. Platonic co-parents, then?”

He holds up his hand for their signature handshake, but Troy just grabs Abed’s hand. “Uh. No,” he says, and steps forward into Abed’s space again, rocking up onto his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh.” Abed smiles, feeling like he’s glowing. He can feel how hot his face is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Troy, on the other hand, looks like he might pass out. “Oh— oh my God, sorry, Abed, I should’ve—”

“No! It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—”

“I really should’ve, like, tried to be more smooth— are you  _ okay?” _

“Yes,” Abed nods, pulling Troy closer. “Of course I’m okay,” he mumbles before kissing Troy back properly.

For all the times he’s kissed people before and all the movies he’s seen, he might have expected to hear bells, or or this to feel like fireworks. But it just feels natural, and right, and  _ awesome _ . Troy’s face is hot too, and he’s smiling so wide into the kiss— until they kiss again, and then he’s focused on that, and, wow, his mouth. Okay, maybe Abed hears a  couple bells.

When they pull away the room is silent, and Troy is the first to turn around and realize the cause of the silence. The baby must have stopped babbling quietly to themself at some point and fallen asleep. Troy turns back around to beam at Abed, and this time, they reach out to do their trademarked handshake at the same time. Their palms meet quietly, and Abed grins. “Cool, cool, cool.”


End file.
